Leftover Tickets
by veredgf
Summary: When a pair of concert tickets are left on Mulder's desk... what will our duo do? Written as a response to a challenge. Fluffy.


_A piece of silly fluff written for a challenge for the "X-Files X-Rated Fanfiction and Fandom" Facebook group. The story isn't x-rated though, just fluffy. Time-wise it occurs about two weeks post the Anasazi Trilogy. I also swear that Mulder and Scully are not my own creations and that I borrowed them to serve my own guilty pleasures..._

 **Leftover Tickets  
** **by Vered Gilad Friedman**

 _April 25, 1995_

Scully pushed the brown office door and plodded inwards. In the back of her mind she found herself wondering why they never bothered with locking their office. As a compliment to her thought, she noted that once again someone came by and left them a 'gift'. Maybe this was some unspoken policy; if you wanted to get into the good stuff, you might as well let the good stuff come to you. She snorted. She never really approached the subject with Mulder. She just accepted this as a given. Maybe deep down inside she knew that this served a certain purpose that furthered their inquest into the truth. She truly didn't know. What she _did_ know was that she was beat, both physically and mentally and right now the last thing she needed was a new mystery tip from some obscure contact of Mulder's.

Unfortunately she had no time to hide the mysterious item as Mulder was right behind her. Despite being just as exhausted as she was, he didn't need much effort to keep up with her thanks to his lanky build and with one long stride he went right past her and reached his desk before she did.

"Err, Scully? Are these from you?"

"What?" she wondered as she approached the desk.

"These tickets." He picked two black and white strips and flashed them right in front of her nose. She could just about smell the ink on them.

She reached up and plucked the two items from his grasp. She gave them a thorough inspection. The thin paper stubs appeared to be tickets for a concert at 'The Black Cat' nightclub. "They're not mine," she muttered as she concluded her examination. She placed the tickets back on his desk and plopped into her chair.

"Hmmm,"

"What?" She responded to his curious hum and then regretted it. _No, Dana, you're tired. Don't play his game when you know your bed is looming just around the corner_.

But she was too late. Mulder was already on a roll. "Did you see the name of the band that's playing?"

She offered him a miserable jaded pout but Mulder was oblivious to her exhaustion. Worse, it seemed that _his_ weariness had evaporated. It was as if there were some paranormal magic wand that gave him energy boosts whenever it was waved at him.

She sighed.

"Scully?" he looked at her when he realized she wasn't responding. "What's wrong?" his demeanor became slightly distressed.

She heaved a deep breath. "Nothing's wrong, Mulder. I'm just beat. We've been on the road for four hours straight. I still have to sit down and write a long report that will explain our findings. As a matter of fact, so do you. I'm just not up for a game of charades right now."

The moment the last word left her mouth, she regretted it. The grave disappointment his expression assumed was enough to make her feel as if she'd just kicked him while he was down. What always amazed her was the fact that she knew that what she was telling him was the right thing to say, but each time he gave her that dejected pup expression, and she'd feel like she was Cruella De Vil, about to strip a Dalmatian's skin. How on Earth did he manage to do this to her, she hadn't a clue.

"OK. Never mind. Go write your report," he muttered and grabbed the tickets.

"Wait a second. Wh… where are _you_ going?" She repressed her need for another sigh.

"I'm off to a concert."

"Seriously?"

"Have you ever known me to not be serious, Scully," he gave her an impish smile as he stood at the office entrance.

She scoffed at his remark.

"What?" he feigned innocence.

"Fine. I'll come with you." She gave up. She knew that _he_ knew she'd give in. He knew how to bypass her logic.

"I don't know Scully. You've got that report to write and all, and anyway, you'll probably fall asleep and drool all over me. I don't wear sputum very well—OCH!"

"Shut up, Mulder, or I'll rib you again!" she threatened with a playful grin as she followed him out of the office.

Mulder gulped and kept his quiet, but from the corner of her eye Scully noted his cheeks pulling slightly upwards, indicating the smirk his face assumed in response.

"When's the concert?" Scully asked as they strode through the basement corridor maze.

"Today, at…" Mulder peered at the tickets. "It begins at 22:00."

"We don't have too much time to change," Scully noted as they took the elevator down to the parking lot.

Mulder snorted. "You were going to change?"

Scully gave him a surprised look. "Of course. You expect me to stay in this suit for this concert?"

"You won't see me searching my closet for a tux." He retorted smugly.

"A tux?!"

Mulder was just about to get into his car when he shot her a confused stare. "OK. Did I misunderstand something?"

"Mulder, do you know what kind of venue we're going out to?" Scully felt like a leopard closing on its kill as she lured Mulder into her trap.

Mulder pursed his lips. "OK, I'll bite. Tell me."

Scully gave him a satisfied grin. "The Black Cat serves as a venue for grunge and indie bands. If you go to that concert dressed in your FBI suit and tie you'd stick out like coffee granules in a sugar container," she laughed.

Mulder seemed to take her remark in stride. "So I take it I need to clear the dust off my flannel shirts?"

She gave him an incredulous stare. "You have _flannel_ shirts?!"

"P-lease. There are certain clothing items that will never go well with this body."

Scully refrained from replying to the contrary even though she had no doubt Mulder could wear just about anything and look more than fine.

"I'll just stick to plain jeans and a T."

"So will I," she agreed and got into her car. "I'll meet you there," she yelled out, as she was about to ignite the engine.

"Wait a minute. You have T-shirts?" he called out to her.

"Very funny," she retorted, shut the car door and sped out of the parking lot.

* * *

Scully yawned as she followed the line of torn jeans and checkered flannel shirts towards the nightclub on 14th street. Despite having two cups of strong coffee flowing through her veins, she was still unable to shake the fatigue from her body. The only thing that it _did_ affect was her bladder. What she truly needed at that very moment was a bathroom and her bed. She'd hoped she'd at least get to frequent the former item on her short list and the sooner the better or things would get kind of embarrassing for her.

She was now near the club's entrance and she searched amongst the gathering crowd for Mulder's familiar form. Finally she spotted him leaning against the nightclub's wall. He had that brooding expression he sometimes wore when he was deep in thought and that combined with his jeans, T-shirt, leather jacket and sneakers made him look like a Walmart male model. He dressed down well, she noted to herself, feeling slightly insecure about her own drab attire.

As she drew in closer, Mulder looked up and the corners of his lips curled upwards. "Hey," he called out to her and pushed himself from the wall he was leaning on.

"Hey," she responded in kind as she noted he was looking her over. She felt a warm flush and she knew her cheeks were probably sporting a nice rosy hue at that very moment. Feeling ill at ease, she quickly directed her gaze at the floor, hoping her complexion would soon return back to its traditional pale tinge.

"I guess you are up to date as far as grunge wardrobes go," he said as she finally stood before him.

"Huh?" She moved her gaze back to his face, feeling her right brow rising to meet the occasion.

He raised his hand and motioned at her shirt. "Flannel becomes you."

Understanding dawned on her and she smiled, feeling both her tension and weariness lifting.

Mulder put his hand around her waist and ushered her into the nightclub. Scully noted how his touch had just the right kind of pressure. He wasn't shoving her forward. He was just making sure she was with him, yet not forcing the issue on her. It made her feel nice and warm inside and if they hadn't been moving forward, she felt she would've pushed herself even further into his embrace.

Once they were past the entrance she realized she had no choice but to part from him or she'd explode under the pressure in her bladder. Reluctantly she excused herself in search of the nearest bathroom. She quickly relieved herself, freshened up and went back in search for Mulder. She found him lounging on a purple velvet sofa, slurping coke straight from a bottle. As she approached him, he proffered a second bottle of coke to her.

"Bottoms up, Scully," he let out and offered her a hearty smile.

She took the drink and plopped herself beside him. The soft cushioning piece of furniture was a very welcome reprieve. Scully felt herself relaxing into it and she imagined the sofa opening its plush mouth, ready to devour her whole. _God_ , she was so ready to drop dead at that very moment. Her body felt as if it were begging her to release it from its misery. Maybe if she rested her head on Mulder's leather jacket shoulder for just a few seconds... It wouldn't mean a thing, right? All she really needed was a place to put her head down. That's all.

She slowly let herself sag onto his shoulder. She felt him slightly shudder, then his tension dissipated and he seemed content.

* * *

"Scully? Hey, Scully?"

Scully's eyelids flew wide open. She felt disoriented and confused as she tried to get her bearings. "Mulder?" she rasped groggily. "Where… where am I?"

He chuckled. "We're at a nightclub called 'The Black Cat'. Is any of this coming back to you?"

 _Fuck_. She'd dosed off, and once again she'd drooled all over Mulder. _What a mess_. With a groan she pushed herself off of Mulder's damp shoulder. Her neck throbbed as she straightened herself up. She tried to soften her pinched muscles with a gentle massage. She felt Mulder moving beside her and then his fingers were touching hers as he joined her in the effort of untangling her taut neck muscles.

"Thanks," she told him, feeling guilty not only about falling asleep but also about ruining his jacket. "I'm sorry about that," she pointed to the dark stain on his shoulder.

"S'ok. I came with my faux leather one. Left the good one at home. Had a feeling you'd leave your mark on me."

She gave him a mock glower and their eyes locked. She took in his honey-tainted gaze and found herself unable to move. She felt the need to push herself forward; to have their lips touching and their tongues interlocking. Her heart was pounding. A thrilling sensation took over her entire body. Mulder seemed to be just as numb as she was, his muscles frozen into a single position. Her eyes darted across his face and settled on his mouth. His lips were partially open, as if he were about to speak. She felt herself drawing nearer to him. He responded in kind, honing in on her lips. The moment seemed to be caught in limbo. Time stopped. He was so close to her now, she could feel his warm breath coupling with hers…

A piercing chime resonated. Scully had been so enthralled with the moment, the sudden loud noise made her heart thump in shock. Just like that, the instant was gone. The dreary feeling of anti-climax, sans climax, settled in and Scully felt her shoulders slump. Beside her Mulder wasn't fairing any better she realized as she noted him sinking backwards into the sofa.

She sighed. "You want to go in? The show's about to start," she offered.

"Nah," he responded, dejection ebbing from his voice. "I'd only gone because the name of the band on the tickets grabbed my attention. I was certain this was some message for me. I had no idea a band named 'Foo Fighters' actually existed."

She smiled, finally understanding his motives as she shook her head. _Oh well_ , she sighed. "I hear they're quite good. We're already here, don't you want to just let it all go and just enjoy the rest of the evening? After the last few weeks, I really think we deserve it. Don't you?"

He gave her a weary smile. "Well, my idea of some down time isn't so much about loud music and having my bodily fluids mixed up with that of strangers."

She grinned at his remark, then, as an afterthought, she put on a brave face and spoke her mind. "What about… mixing bodily fluids with… somebody you _do_ know?"

His face transformed into a rather meaningful expression. "What about it?"

She pushed herself off of the comfortable couch then turned to face Mulder. She offered him her hand. He took it and got up and joined her.

"My place?" he suggested.

"Yeah. Give the fishes something to blab about."

This time he went for a full-blown bout of laughter as they walked towards the exit.

Scully couldn't help beaming as they left the nightclub.

 **THE END**


End file.
